Page 16 of Storm in a Teacup (Love in Edinburgh #3)

“No, but I think I have to,” he finally replies. “I believe the only reason David invited you and Callum was as a barrier. He doesn’t want to be alone with me.”

I scoff. “I doubt that’s the case. He probably wants to get to know me better. I’m great.”

Ben smiles, but not his real one. “I’m sure that’s it.” He sighs. “Either way, I’d like to have you there—just to prove that I’ve moved on.” He clears his throat. “Even though, as much as I’ve tried, I haven’t.”

“Got it. Well, I’m happy to go.” I squeeze his arm in reassurance.

“Thanks,” he says gratefully as we descend the stairs. Once we get to the platform, I release him.

The train comes, so we board, huddling in side by side. We arrive back at the hotel and run into Kensie and Jen. They both wave and say hi.

“You headed out?” I ask .

“Yeah,” Kensie says. “There’s a spot around the corner we want to check out. You both are welcome to tag along.”

I shake my head. “I am actually really excited to go to bed.”

“Me too,” Ben says quietly, causing my face to flush. He’s too good at this.

There’s mischief in Kensie’s eyes. “Got it. Well, I guess we’ll see you both at the welcome dinner?”

“Yeah,” I say, accepting the hug she’s offering. I don’t bother to explain that Ben won’t be with me for either the rehearsal dinner or the wedding. “See you soon.”

We get up to our room, and I immediately kick a trash can upon entering. “That’s in a different spot,” I grumble as I nudge it back to its rightful place. “I’m going to shower.”

Ben nods, kicking off his shoes and flopping back onto the bed. He grabs the remote and flips on the TV as I close the bathroom door.

I turn on the shower to let it heat up as I get undressed.

I climb in, standing under the warm water.

I wash my face and body, then nudge the water a little hotter before shaving my legs since I’ve developed goosebumps that will not be conducive to shaving.

The water gets hot, but not hot enough. I turn it all the way so it’s practically boiling.

The scorching water pelts my skin, the momentary sting of pain feeling good.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. This is something I do occasionally—take a moment under the heat.

Once my skin gets used to the temperature, I prop my leg up on the lip of the bathtub so I can shave.

When I’m done, I turn off the shower and step out, seeing my pinked skin in the steamed mirror as I secure the thin, white hotel towel around my chest.

At the counter, I take one contact out and pop it in my case. I move on to the next, and it slips off my finger as soon as it’s out of my eye.

“Shit,” I swear, searching the counter and the ground from where I stand.

I don’t see it. Annoying thing is, yes, I’ve got the whole deteriorating eye thing going on, but my correctable vision is quite poor as well—which is mostly unrelated.

I kneel to get a better look, but still cannot find it.

Ugh . How stereotypical. I snatch my glasses from where I had left them on the counter this morning.

They’re a thin gold, metal frame with thick lenses.

As soon as I put them on, they fog up. I take them off, wipe them on the towel around me, and then try again.

Again, they fog. I grunt and stand to crack open the door in an attempt to level out the steam.

My glasses go back on my face as I decide to just wait for them to unfog. I bend over to continue hunting for my lost contact, but misjudge the counter’s edge. The corner of my glasses connects with the counter, slamming them back into my skull.

“Fuck!” I exclaim loudly, hand going to my face as I drop to the floor, eyebrow stinging in pain.

“Linny?” Ben calls out, his voice getting louder as he approaches the bathroom. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I reply, voice cracking. Tears are streaming out of my eyes.

“You’re crying,” Ben says as he pushes his way into the humid bathroom, feet bare and now just in an undershirt and his trousers, eyes widening when he sees me sitting on the floor, wrapped in only my towel, tears freely flowing.

“I’m fine,” I say, voice still strained. “That just really hurt.” He steps toward me, but I say, “Wait!” He pauses, regarding me curiously. “I dropped my contact.”

“You’re bleeding,” he says in response. Of course I am. He nods as he thinks. “Okay. Don’t move. I’ll find your contact first.” He searches for a moment, making a sound of triumph when he sees it. “It’s stuck to the side of the counter.” He scoops it up, balancing it on his finger.

Finger extended, he holds it out to me, passing it to my outstretched finger like children passing a bug. Without getting up, I grab my contact case from the edge of the counter and place the contact inside with the solution. I screw the top on and make to stand, but Ben shakes his head at me.

“Stay there.”

He kneels in front of me, removing my glasses and setting them up on the counter. He snatches a tissue and gently dabs above my eye where I injured myself. Pain stings where the tissue touches.

“A lot of blood,” he comments, “but not too deep.” He grabs a fresh tissue and presses it to the cut. “Hold this here,” he directs. “I’m going to see if the front desk has a first aid kit. Don’t move.”

I take the tissue from him, applying pressure to the spot. “Not even to put on clothes?” I ask, painfully cognizant of the fact that I am only in a towel.

“Especially not to put on clothes,” he says seriously. “I’ll be right back.” He leaves the room while I stay in that spot, sitting on the bathroom floor.

The tears stopped already, but they nearly start again when I’m hit with how annoyed I am at myself. When things like this happen, I never know if I should blame my eyes or my knack for clumsiness. I hold the tears in. There have been far too many on this trip.

Ben soon returns, supplied with antibacterial cream and bandages.

He kneels back before me, gently guiding my hand away from the injury.

“It’s already stopped bleeding,” he observes.

He dabs on the cream, smoothing it into the cut with the pad of his thumb.

He then places the bandage on the spot, concealing half of my eyebrow in the process. “Cute.”

I glare.

He responds with a laugh. “I’m serious!” He brushes a loose strand of my damp hair behind my ear, then presses his lips against the bandage. I feel myself anchoring toward his mouth. He pulls away only slightly to say softly, “Kiss and make it better, right?”

“Right,” I whisper back, eyes trained on a light bruise on my bare knee. “I’m not usually this much of a mess,” I promise, even though I’m not sure that’s true.

“I like a bit of a mess.” As if suddenly aware of how close we are, he pulls back and stands. “I’ll leave you to get dressed.” He exits, closing the door behind himself.

I pull myself back to my feet, finish my skincare routine, glare at the bandage affixed to my face, then put on my PJs.

By the time I exit, Ben has changed into shorts and is wearing his glasses as he watches TV.

When he sees I’m out, we switch places in the bathroom.

I climb into my side of the bed, pulling out my phone but not really looking at anything.

He comes back out, teeth brushed and face washed. Before he climbs in with me, he grabs two pillows and puts them in the middle of the bed. He then snatches one of the pillows from behind my head, causing me to slam back into the wall, and puts that in the middle as well.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demand, sitting up.

“Building a barrier,” he says, “since you clearly can’t keep your hands to yourself in the night.”

“Oh my god,” I say, snatching back my pillow and tossing it behind my shoulders. “You’re such an ass.” I grab another pillow and chuck it at him .

He chuckles as he catches it, flopping down onto the bed and throwing it behind himself. “I told you, I liked it. I’m happy to cuddle anytime.” He shoves his body under the sheets.

I cross my arms. “It won’t happen again.”

“I won’t be upset if it does.”

I sigh heavily and take off my glasses, tossing them on the side table, then switch off the lamp. I slide down lower into the sheets and lie on my back.

Ben follows suit, turning off his light and settling into the bed. “So,” he says into the dark room. “I realized you know why I was on the bench, but I don’t know what led you there. Why were you in Grassmarket? Not trailing Atti, right?”

“ No ,” I snip. “I was just…” I huff out air through my nose. “I was taking a walk. I know that sounds weird because it was eleven o’clock at night, but I do that sometimes. Not as often anymore, but it’s, like, proof that I can. Taking a walk in the dark by myself reminds me that I have agency.”

“Hmm,” he muses. “That makes sense. Can I make one request, though, for when you do that?”

“What?”

“Take some form of weapon with you. Protect yourself.”

My heart hums at the concern. “I have mace.”

“Good.”

I shift on my side toward him. “I was happy to have you here this weekend. I hope you had an okay time.”

“I had a great time.” He flips on his side as well. “I was happy to be here.”

I don’t say anything to that, but I extend my leg so my foot can touch his.

“Your toes are freezing,” he whispers.

“That sucks for you,” I whisper back .

He lifts his feet up to encompass mine, rubbing like he’s attempting to create heat.

I laugh loudly. “Ben!” I try to yank my foot back to my side of the bed, but he has trapped it. I keep giggling, my hand on his chest in a poor effort to push him away. Once I get my foot free, I kick him lightly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’ve been called worse,” he says through a smirk I can hear.

“Good night ,” I say assertively, flipping onto my other side.

“’Night,” he responds, his foot hitting mine one last time.

…

I wake to light on my face. I blink my eyes open and find myself face-to-face with Ben.

His eyes are closed—he is clearly still asleep.

Neither one of us is spooning the other, but we are sharing a pillow.

As I come to and assess my surroundings, I realize it is me sharing his.

Damn . I’m the cuddler once again. Very closely, at that.

My arms are gathered in front and pressed into his chest. One of his arms is shoved under the pillow—and the other is resting on my waist. Our legs are gently intertwined.

I should move away, but every instinct is telling me to move closer. I don’t.

I carefully pull away, untangling our limbs, and twist to get out of the bed, not wanting Ben to wake up to us like this. I’ll keep this morning to myself. If I keep it for myself, it makes it less real.

And that’s better.